The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит

in this case, a dryer sheet wouldn’t be much help. They didn’t make one big enough or powerful enough to get rid of someone like him. The way to avoid Dillon, Ivy realized, would be to shut herself away in her room for the remainder of the week.

      It couldn’t be any worse than spending a week with him.

      “I’m going up to my room to rest. I’ll see you later.” Much, much later.

      “I understand why you might need some time alone,” he said, a devilish glint in his eyes. “That kiss did get you pretty hot and bothered. You go ahead and take care of business.”

      “Business?” For a second she was confused, then it hit her. She realized exactly what he meant by business. Did he really think she was going upstairs to—

      “I have nothing against going solo.” He stepped closer, eyes sparking with desire. His voice dropped a few decibels, even though they were the only ones there. “In fact, you might not remember, but I love to watch.”

      Oh, she remembered.

      The things he’d talked her into doing back then still made her blush. Unlike past boyfriends, he’d never played the if-you-loved-me-you-would card. He’d been patient. A tender, generous lover. The kind of man who never failed to put her needs before his own.

      The memory poured over Ivy like melted milk chocolate. Rich and sweet and warm. And her head had begun to get that light, fuzzy feeling…

      Damn, damn, damn.

      He was pulling that sexy, simmering thing he did so well. And like an idiot she was falling for it. Again! How could someone she disliked as much as Dillon be so darned appealing? Could it be that she didn’t dislike him as much as she thought?

      Or was she just losing her mind?

      The worst part was he knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he was loving every second of it.

      Someone needed to cool that man’s engines.

      Since tossing him over the balcony into the ocean wasn’t an option, she would have to settle for the next best thing.

      “On second thought, May be I’ll dip my feet in the pool for a second and cool off.” She switched direction, heading instead for the French doors that would take her to the pool deck. She knew he would follow, and he didn’t disappoint her.

      The man’s libido had been bound to get him into trouble one of these days. She was just glad she would be around to see him get a dose of his own medicine. And even better, she would be the one to dispense the bitter pill.

      He reached past her, like the gentleman he’d always been, and opened the door.

      She stepped outside, a wall of dry, sweltering heat drawing her into its grip.

      “Damn!” Dillon said. “Sure is hot out here.”

      Not to worry, he would be cooled off soon enough.

      “I could use a cold drink,” he said. “Can I get you something?”

      “Whatever you’re having.”

      “Two mineral waters comin’ right up.”

      His arrogance, his unshakable self-confidence, would be his undoing.

      She walked to the deep end of the pool, hiked her skirt up to the midthigh region so it wouldn’t get wet—and hell, why not give him a decent view before he went down—and sat on the edge, the hot tile scorching the backs of her legs. She dipped her feet in and cool water lapped around her ankles. The midday sun reflecting off the surface strobed in her eyes and made her squint.

      She watched as Dillon stepped around the bar and fished two bottles of water from the refrigerator. With the exception of a sip of champagne, she still hadn’t seen him drink a single alcoholic beverage.

      “You don’t drink anymore?” she asked.

      He opened both waters and added a wedge of lime to each one. “Occasionally.”

      Keep a casual conversation going so he doesn’t suspect, she told herself. Act as if everything is normal. “What made you quit?”

      “You ever try to run a billion-dollar corporation with a raging hangover?” He carried them both over to where she sat, and the anticipation was killing her.

      “So it was interfering with your work?”

      He shrugged. “The truth is, I didn’t make a conscious effort to stop. I guess I just outgrew it.” He leaned slightly forward to hand her a bottle. “Here you go.”

      “Thank you.” She cast him a bright smile. This was going to feel so good.

      She reached up to grab it, but instead she wrapped her hand around his wrist and yanked as hard as she could. He teetered for a second, trying to catch his balance, then he laughed and cursed and let himself fall.

      He landed with a noisy, messy kersploosh, bottles and all, splashing her from head to toe with pool water.

      “Yes!” She jumped to her feet, cherishing her victory. May be now he would stop messing with her; he would see she meant business. And even if he didn’t, it had been a lot of fun.

      She gazed down into the water. Any second now, he would rise to the top and see her smug smile, the satisfaction in her eyes. May be the kiss idea had been a disaster, but this would be her moment of triumph.

      Yep, any second now.

      She squinted to make out his shadowy form against the dark tile lining the bottom of the pool. He was still way down there. May be he was looking for the water bottles. So someone didn’t accidentally step on one and cut their foot. Only thing was, he didn’t appear to be moving.

      A pocket of air rose and bubbled to the surface but still no Dillon.

      What if he’d hurt himself?

      No, that was silly. She had seen him go in. He hadn’t hit his head or twisted anything. At least, she didn’t think so. He was fine. He was just trying to get her to jump in after him.

      Well, she wasn’t falling for it.

      But how long could someone hold their breath? It had already been a while, hadn’t it? Close to a minute even. At least it seemed that way.

      As every second ticked past, her confidence began to fizzle.

      What if there was something really wrong? What if he wasn’t breathing? What if he’d been telling the truth and he really didn’t know how to swim?

      He’d told her he never learned how and she’d pushed him in regardless, meaning she would be responsible if he was hurt.

      If he died.

      Her heart dropped hard and fast, leaving a sick, empty hole in her chest as a dozen gruesome images flashed through her brain at the speed of light. Dillon being dragged from the pool, his tanned skin gray and waxy, his lips a deathly shade of blue.

      Dillon’s funeral. Having to face his family and admit it had been her fault.

      She thought of all the things she could have said to him, should have said, and had never gotten the chance.

      Her stomach churned with the possibilities, and her head swam with disbelief. She didn’t like Dillon, but she didn’t want him dead, either.

      And what if no one believed it was an accident? She could see the headlines now. Bestselling author murders ex-husband after publicly berating him in her tell-all book.

      Dillon had floated closer to the surface, but he still wasn’t moving, and she was running out of time. There was no way he could hold his breath for that long.

      Oh, hell.

      She kicked off her sandals and dove in, the cool water swallowing her up like a hungry beast, numbing her senses. All she could feel was the dull throb of panic squeezing her chest,